


A Scar On My Mind

by writergirl659



Category: Frühlings Erwachen | Spring Awakening - Frank Wedekind, Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater
Genre: Deaf West, F/M, Slow Burn, Wendla is deaf, dwsa although I do love some Jonathan Groff, long burn, moritz is deaf, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-20
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-25 13:06:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14379267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writergirl659/pseuds/writergirl659
Summary: This is a story about Melchior and Wendla after Spring Awakening. Melchior thinks Wendla is dead, and goes back to the boarding school. He befriends Erne, an older student who's sister died because of anemia. Once he graduates, Melchior befriends a new friend who is deaf like Wendla. Will he find his way again? Melchior/Wendla, DWSA





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing for the SA fandom, but I hope you enjoy! It will eventually be Wendla/Melchior, but it's a long way to get there.

Melchior thought he heard footsteps. “Wendla?” He questions, looking around him. Melchior is strolling around the graveyard and thinks  _ Look at this, you spend your life running from the Church, and where do you wind up? _ Melchior chuckles to himself. He spots Moritz’ grave and kneels. “Moritz, my old friend.” Melchior sighs, “Well, they won’t get to me. Or Wendla. I won’t–– I won’t let them. We’ll build that world, together, for our child.” 

Melchior hears the twelve chimes of the church bells. Midnight. He stands up and looks around and listens for Wendla’s steps. She’s usually easy to hear since she’s deaf. When he doesn’t hear anything, he wanders to a new, fresh grave. Melchior kneals, not hearing about any devastating losses from his mother in her letters. “Here rests in God, Wendla Berg––” Melchior starts reading.

“No!!” He bends closer to read the stone. Surely they messed up. “Born the third of… Died? Of anemia?” Melchior doubles over with grief, crying “Oh my God. Wendla too? No. No. No!” Without hesitating, he pulls out his knife. There is nothing more for him to live. Those he loves have gone, so what’s the use in living? He looks at the blade and all he sees is Moritz’ face. His eyes are pleading and his face is somber, like he’s trying to tell Melchior something. Melchior turns it around, and sees Wendla’s face in it. At first, he thinks it is her reflection, but when he turns around, he sees that it’s only his imagination. He can’t kill himself with those faces etched in stone. His friends are dead, there’s nothing to do.

Melchior sits there for what seems like hours figuring out what he wants to do with his life, but decides to take the most painful route: go back to school. He tredges his way back through the forests onto the road back to hell. 

 

It was not an easy battle to get back into school. The headmaster was furious, and made him scrub the floors for weeks. It didn’t help that none of the boys wanted anything to do with him. He found little babies in his pillowcase and in his drawers. They don’t know what has happened to Wendla, and Melchior doesn’t know if he ever will tell them. There was one boy, Erne (pronounced Aahr-na), a year older than him, who was always on the stairs reading Schiller’s  _ Maria Stuart _ , a book Melchior was always interested in reading. He never could understand why Erne would sit on the steps reading, if Melchior had to ask every time for him to move while he scrubbed. It was humiliating, and one day he had enough. 

“Why do you sit here? You know I am going to have to ask you to move. Why waste your time?” Melchior asks as he works his way scrubbing up the stairs. “You just keep reading the same book over and over. What’s the point?” 

Erne closes his book and looks earnestly at Melchior. “It’s my favorite, I never seem to fully grasp the reason all of the events unfold. I think sometime you should read it.”

“Is that so?” Melchior asks, putting down his brush. “I have always wanted to read it, but I am not sure I have time for it with all this scrubbing.” 

“What if I read it to you?” Erne asks. “I know you’ve had something terrible happen. I’ve heard your screams. I see your eyes.” Erne sees the look of horror in Melchior’s face. “I-I don’t mean to impose anything. I get them too, the nightmares.” 

“You do?” Melchior asks, pulling up his knees to his chin. He hasn’t had a conversation with anyone in weeks. He doesn’t want to push Erne further, but he is quite interested. Maybe they have the same scars.

“My sister, Clara, died when I was eleven.” Erne takes a shaky breath. “They said, she died from anemia, but I knew better. I have seen what happened to girls like her before. They fall in love and then--” His voice breaks, Melchior scoots closer. 

“She’s gone. Dead. Just like that.” Erne says as he puts his head in his hands. “It was over five years ago, and I still can’t understand. She was so young, too smart and too beautiful for this world I guess. That’s why I read  _ Maria Stuart _ , it helps me try to understand inhumane deaths.” Erne lifts his head, “So, who’s gone and has left a scar your mind?”

Melchior freezes. That is a sign he used with Wendla whenever they were together. She leaves a bruise on his mind, he leaves on on her heart. He hasn’t talked to anyone about her death, so why should he open up now? But the look on Erne’s face mirrors is own, and his sister reminds him of Wendla. “I had a friend, well, more than a friend, who died from anemia. She was young too, and too innocent.”

Before Melchior could speak another word, the headmaster yelled from the bottom of the stairs. “Those stairs are not going to clean themselves! Get back to work Gabor!” 

“Meet me in the library this evening, 11:00. The librarian knows about me, and lets me in during the nights I can’t sleep. She will surely do the same for you. She had a daughter who was like Clara as well. As far as I know, it’s just us three with these stories. It’s why she works here, to help young boys learn what caused their deaths.”

Melchior questions if Erne knows what really happened with Wendla, that HE was the one to cause the pain, not some other person, him and only him. Melchior nods silently towards him as he makes his way back to the scrub brush and pale.

When it is almost time for him to meet up with Erne late at night, Melchior thinks about not going. Why was Erne so interested in him? Why tell him about his sister? Does he hope that Melchior would admit to Wendla’s death? Many questions swirled his mind and he knows there is only one way to get them answered, and that’s by going to the library.

Melchior makes his way to the library when Frau Palmer opened the door and let him in. “I’ve heard about you child. Erne is in the fiction section if you want to talk. If not, I’ll be here too if you want to talk to me.” Melchior thanks her and walks to the fiction section where he finds Erne hunched over a book. When he comes closer, Erne looks up. “I didn’t think you would come. I am glad to see you here.”

“Does it ever get better? The pain, the nightmares. I can’t seem to break through them.” Melchior asks, sitting down next to Erne. He closes the book that he’s reading, and Melchior catches the title:  _ Faust.  _ Melchior’s favorite.

Erne puts his head in his chin and looks at Melchior. “I don’t know exactly what you’ve gone through, but over time, the pain will fade. It will come back every now and then, but remember, they’re always in your hearts. I know for Clara, her birthdays are what get me every year, along with Christmas. She used to always come into my bed and we’d read our favorite stories out loud the night before Christmas. Melchior,” Erne hesitates, “The best thing that helped me was to talk about it. I know you may not want to with me, but it’s what brought me back to lucidness after so many months of drowning in sorrow.”

Melchior looks at him with tears in his eyes. He backs up against the bookshelf, so they face each other. “I-I don’t know how to start.”

“Start with the good. How did you become friends with this person?”

“Wendla, her name was Wendla. And Moritz, he plays an important role in this story as well.” Melchior starts, with a big sigh  _ now or never _ he thinks. “Wendla, Moritz, our friend Ilse and I would all play pirates together on our way home from school, back when the boys and girls were still able to be in school together. Moritz and I would run out in the meadow and hide in the corn, waiting for Ilse and Wendla to find us. We were the voyagers, they were our maidens. Then, as we grew up, we got separated. The girls went to a different school, while Moritz and I went to another. We only met up during church activities, but never like those early days, just the four of us.” Melchior wraps his arms around his knees. “There was a long time when we didn’t see each other together. Ilse was abused at her home, and one day ran away to an artists’ colony. No one saw her much, she became an outcast, and I think became somewhat of a prostitute. She makes her way, but I think she sees that there is more good than bad in her life and still trudges along.”

“Is Ilse the one?” Erne asks, not wanting to impose too much.

“No,” Melchior starts sadly. “We’ll get there.”

“Moritz and I went to quite a small school, so he and I were always in class together. Have I mentioned he and Wendla are deaf? They taught both Ilse and I sign language growing up. They are not siblings, but were friends younger than the four of us knew each other, since their moms figured out ways together to communicate with their children. Most of the sign their parents know are from Moritz and Wendla, which did not help Moritz and Wendla learn as quickly as the rest of the kids, which is when Ilse and I stepped in. We all helped each other with school work, and a long lasting friendship budded. When Moritz and I were in school, he started to fail his exams. I would try to help him, it is hard to conjugate Greek and Latin when you are deaf and the teacher expects you to speak. It was hard for him to find a place in school. I tried my best to help, but eventually other stuff got in the way.”

“Should have been sent here, I am sure the headmaster would have been his worst nightmare.” Erne says with a smile. 

“Yes, he would have hated it here. Back home, he got distracted with dreams.”

“ _ Those _ kind of dreams?” Erne asks with a smirk. “Don’t we all.”

Melchior blushes and looks down. “Yes. He came up to me one day and described them, telling he was going insane. If that were the case, than half of the population would be in reformatories.” Melchior says with a chuckle. “My parents are quite liberal with my education, they let me read  _ Faust _ at a young age. I was able to explain to him that everyone in our class was in the same boat as him, and that he was not an outcast.”

“Wait, you read  _ Faust  _ when you were younger?” Erne questions, holding up his copy he was reading earlier. “I am sure that was quite an eye opener.”

Melchior smiles, “It was. It definitely helped me with Moritz, who was uncomfortable with the talk of sex wanted me to write it all down for him, with pictures. The day after I gave it to him, he couldn’t stop talking about it, but it made his dreams worse: more graphic. I tried my best to help him through it, but eventually he started to slip through the cracks. It was around this time I saw Wendla for the first time in a while outside of church.” A tear slips from Melchior’s eye. 

“Oh,” Erne says softly. “Wendla, she’s your bruise.” He shifts closer.

Melchior smiles meekly, “She was much different than I remembered from our childhood, but the same. Innocent. But, she messed with my mind. I couldn’t get her out of my head, like one of Moritz’ dreams. One day, she asked me to beat her, so she could feel the pain of what it was like for her friend Martha to be beaten by her father. That’s when everything changed.”   


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am familiar with the German school system and towns, and I tried my best to incorporate them. Keep in mind, I tried to look up about schools in the late 1800s and did not come up with much, so I take it with a grain of salt. Also, I quote Sarah Kay’s poem Worst Poetry when Ernst says “biting wit and sarcasm”, so that is not my own. Everything else, besides the characters and their allusions to the play is my own interpretation.

Melchior runs his hands through his hair, frustrated with what he wants to tell Erne. He barely knows this guy but has been watching him for weeks. He seems to know what he is talking about and is very sincere, but Melchior knows his past is terrible, and it’s his fault.

“Do you want to keep going? We could stop, and just talk about Faust, or we can go back to the dormitories.” Erne asks, not wanting Melchior to feel entrusted to give out his story.

“No, if I don’t get it out now, I think it would kill me,” Melchior says putting his head in his hands. “Wendla- she asked me to beat her. At first, I said no, there was no way I could do that to her, not only because she’s a girl, but because she was one of my closest friends. But she persisted, claiming she had never felt anything in her life before. Anything, not with me, not with anyone. Her heart was already set on it, and there was nothing I could do except obey. It reminded me of what my old headmaster used on me, once in school when I backed Moritz up on a conjugation of Latin. So, I beat her. Softly at first, but then my anger at her saying she didn’t feel anything with me hurt me. I thought of my teacher, beating me, and I told her I didn’t want to hurt her, but I did it anyway. I got out of control, she urged me so much. I called her a bitch and hit her so hard, I ran away. She couldn’t hear me since she’s deaf, but she knew what I said. I broke her.”

“I tried my best to avoid her, I stopped going to church. I kept away from the meadow and read instead in the hayloft at my house. One day, about a week or so later, she found it. She came with my journal, which I left in the meadow when she asked me to beat her. I told her I didn’t want to see her, too ashamed to talk long. Wendla told me she was sorry, but how could she? She was the one who got beaten by me, this was not her fault. Something started within me when I hit her, and she said it was the same for her, despite me hurting her. It broke me, I didn’t want to hurt her more. She wanted me to go outside with her and run together in the rain. I grasped her arm, and signed in her hand, ‘I’m sorry’, she apologized some more and hugged me. I could hear her heartbeat, slow and steady, like what I hear in my mind when I think of her. I pulled her to my chest to feel mine, we were the same at that moment, I was so in love with her, I wanted so badly to kiss her, so I did.” Melchior’s voice broke, knowing that he had to keep going.

“She refused at first, it was not allowed for people our age to kiss before marriage. I asked her, “Are we not supposed to feel? Are we not supposed to love? I don’t know if there’s such a thing, but I hear your heart. I feel you breathing, everywhere; in the rain, in the hay, please” I tried to kiss her again, but she hesitated. “Is it sinful?” I asked, she said no, but she didn’t know what we were doing.” Melchior hesitated, “She didn’t know what we were doing. So innocent, so ambivalent. I should have stopped, but I loved her, and I wanted to express to her what I felt, but I did not have the sign language vocabulary to do so. I said, “Why is it bad? Because it’s good? Because it makes us feel something?” Then she kissed me,” Melchior smiles, remembering this moment of consent. “She kissed me, and we were on fire. I told her to not be scared, and she backed off for a bit but I pleaded, wanting my own satisfaction, wanting to show her my love for her. But she lied down, and I took that as in invitation. She was so beautiful in the light, I kept going, she let me, and then we were one. It was beautiful, a piece of paradise, and neither one of us regretted it.

The next day, I found out that my good friend Moritz killed himself. He failed his classes, and would not be able to go onto the next year with the rest of the class. His father was furious, and it exacerbated the problem. He wrote a letter to my mother, begging her to send him off to America, but she refused, saying that his life was full here. Despite my mother’s best wishes, he left us forever and went to an even better place. It broke my heart, and I became sheltered, not wanting to talk about my grief.

Wendla and I, we didn’t see each other for a while, final exams and Moritz’s death hit us hard. It was after final exams my parents found out about the letter I wrote Moritz all those months ago since the headmasters found it in a trash bin. My parents were so upset, but my mother fended me. All I wrote was true. Wendla and I wrote all the time to one another, and I longed to see her again. I asked when, but she said she was sick, her mother was going to find a good doctor. I told her I longed for that bit of paradise on that rainy night, and that I loved her. Well, Wendla gave that letter to her mother when she found out--”

Melchior’s voice cracked, tears streaming down his face. “She found out she was pregnant, with my child. Her mother went to my parents and told them everything. They knew that I knew perfectly well what I was doing, and the dangers of it. But Wendla didn’t. It was rape. My parents sent me here since it is better than a reformatory. My mother still wanted me to get an education but be sheltered. One day, I received a letter from Wendla. I was getting taunted by the boys my age, so I didn’t get a chance to read much of it before they took it from me. It said:

“My dear Melchior, I only pray that this reaches you. I’ve written so many and have heard nothing back. This even when Mom falls asleep I will leave here and come to you. I will find you in that terrible place. They must let me see you, I have such remarkable news! Something has happened Melchior, something that I can barely understand. I have so many dreams of the better world that we will build together for our child.” It was at that moment I knew there was trouble, I wrote my friend Ilse, you may remember her from the beginning, asking her to bring Wendla to the cemetery at the end of the week. ran as fast as I could out of here. It took days, but I found my way back to the cemetery, one of our favorite places to go and play as children. I thought it was funny since I spend a good portion of my life running away from the church. I found Moritz’ grave and paid my respects. A few stones down, I saw a fresh mound. It was Wendla’s-” Melchior broke down, and Erne pulled him into a hug.

“You did not do that to her Melchior,” Erne said, crying himself. “The universe did this to her. Her mother should have taught her everything. You knew the risk, but you loved her. That’s what we do when we love. My sister, she was like Wendla, but she knew the risks, she knew. That did not help her, and it did not matter to my parents. She tried her best to run away, but they found her and took her to a doctor. She never came back.You see Melchior? We have the same scars.”

Melchior scoots back wiping the tears from his eyes, “Now what am I to do? How am I to let Wendla go?”

“Stop trying to force her out of your life. She is a part of you, you had a child with her, she will be with your forever. Don’t let her story define you, but have it shape and mold you into a better person. Help those out who go through the same thing, whether teaching others to sign, warning about pregnancies, or sexual education for everyone. Find your part to play to change the stories of others. Her mother probably didn’t have the vocabulary to sign to her about female anatomy and the logistics of sex. Do you know how to sign that? Because if you can’t, there’s no way for her mother to know. Take that, sit with it for the rest of the night, and get back to me.” Erne says, standing to his feet and helping Melchior get up. “Thank you, Melchior, for being brave and telling me. I hope you know that it was more you than for me, I am here to help you, not to hurt, so anytime you want to stop, just let me know.”

The two boys went their separate ways. Melchior couldn’t believe that he finally talked to someone about Wendla. He’s had zero interaction with his family since before he left for the boarding school and before Wendla died. He doesn’t even think they know that he knows about Wendla’s death. Should he write them? Or would that cause too much tension in his family?

Erne and Melchior became fast friends and managed to help each other to become friends with the other boys. The school was hard, and Melchior never heard from his parents except for spare letters for his birthday and Christmas. From them, Melchior got the idea that his mother wanted to speak to him more, but his father refused her to do so as part of his punishment. He was in school all year long, and by the time he finished four years later, Melchior had a job lined up with a big newspaper based out of Stuttgart, about 20 km from his hometown, Geradstetten. Erne had left the year before, heading back to Hamburg to run his father’s business. They had gotten close, and remained in touch with weekly letters. He found a girl he liked, and they seemed to be doing well and happy. He even met a deaf man his age to help out in the shop, thanks to Melchior teaching him to sign.

On the day of his graduation, Melchior’s parents came to pick him up. Melchior could not believe that his four years were finally up. He is excited to get back to Geradstetten and to finally see his friends again, but he yearns for the truth about Wendla’s death from her mother and his friends. He wonders if the town really knows what happened to her. He wonders if anyone has changed because of it. Most importantly, he’s excited to finally see Ilse again, they never got a chance to talk about Wendla or Moritz, and it was hard to go through it alone at the boarding school before Erne came along.

The car ride home was long and bumpy. His parents decided to splurge on one when he was gone, and he missed the comforting quiet carriage rides he used to take with his horses, instead of the loud bumbling car. His father and mother both seemed quiet, but when they got home, his mother came up into his room.

“I’ve missed you so much, Melchior.” His mother says, sitting on his bed. “It is not the same without your brain and wonder for the world. Who am I supposed to talk to about the books I’ve read? Certainly not your father. When you weren’t here, it was so quiet and lonesome.”

“I missed you too Mother,” Melchior says, starting to unpack his few belongings. “I wish you could have written more. I know nothing of what has happened here, what is this sleepy town up to? Did you ever learn about my life at the Gymnasium? It was miserable and quite lonesome as well.”

“Come sit down Melchior,” His mother says, patting the bed next to her. He hesitates but decides to join her, laying his head on her lap. “We got reports every week from your professors and headmaster. At any time we felt it was necessary to pull you out we would have. You did quite well in your schoolwork, which your father was proud of, but I wrote quite frequently to them asking if you made any friends, and I heard all about Erne.” She starts stroking his hair, something she hasn’t done since he was a child.

“He’s the same as you, isn’t he. I heard about his sister. Do you want to talk about it?” She asks as she looks down at his face, he’s crying.

“Momma,” Melchior starts. “Do you know what happened to Wendla?”

“Oh yes, Melchi, I assumed you knew because you snuck out of the Gymnasium and never came into town, and you went right back.”

“You knew about that? I received a letter, from Wendla, and she told me…” Melchior petered off, not knowing if he should tell his mother about their child.

“About the baby? Mrs. Bergmann came by and told us all about what happened to her. They took her to an abortion clinic to not ruin the family reputation, but there were complications. Melchior, Wendla and the baby are both dead.” Melchior’s mom says, tears streaming down your face. “Now, you need to understand that Wendla’s death is not your fault. You two were in love, and that does not cause a person to die. It was her mother who was afraid and did not want to help her daughter, only herself.”

They sit together and talk some more until they turn in for the night. Melchior decides it would be a good idea to visit the Bergmanns and Ilse, as well as some of his old school friends before leaving for Stuttgart within the week. His first stop was to his old school and catch the boys walking home. It was so nice to see everyone, especially Ernst and Hänschen since they both decided it was better to be true to themselves instead of hiding.

“It’s great to finally see you two together!” Melchior says, walking with the two of them. He had caught up with Otto and the others earlier, and now is walking to Ilse’s with Hänschen and Ernst. The two boys look at Melchior quizzically.

“How could you tell?” Hänschen asks as he slips his hand into Ernst’s.

“I sat in between you two at school for years, I know secret romance when I see it.” Melchior laughs. “It’s just nice to finally see some happiness around here,” Melchior adds with a sad smile as he slips his hands into his pockets.

“It has not been the same without you Melchior, we missed your biting wit and sarcasm in class,” Ernst says, trying to lighten the mood and not talk about Wendla.

“I missed hearing from you, but as a part of my punishment for writing that essay all those years ago, my parents decided to not allow any letters from you into my hands at school, or letters from me sent to you. I’m sorry, and I hope that despite me moving to Stuttgart we will stay in touch. I miss Moritz just as much as you, and I know there’s nothing wrong with having more friends.” Melchior says as they round the corner to the artist’s colony.

“Well, Melchior it was nice catching up with you! Make sure to write when you get to Stuggart.” Hänschen replies, giving Melchior a quick hug goodbye.

Melchior said a quick goodbye to the boys before heading into the colony, a quaint house bustling with budding artists. He quickly finds Ilse in the corner reading.

“Ilse! It’s good to see you, my friend.” Melchior says, walking up to her. She looked thin, but her eyes were shining and she looked quite happy.

“Melchior! It is so nice to finally see you again.” Ilse says with a smile as she stands up to greet her long lost friend. “It has been too long. How have you been? How did the Gymnasium treat you?”

“It was definitely not Geradstetten, but I am happy to finally be back!” Melchior says, giving Ilse a hug. It was nice to finally see his childhood friend. “I hope you are doing well Ilse, I know it must have been tough with you after Moritz and Wendla’s deaths, and I wish that we were together through it. I dearly missed you.”

“Oh Melchi, it was extremely difficult, as I talked to Moritz right before he killed himself. I did not know he was planning on doing it, but I don’t think there would have been a way to talk him out of it. He made up his mind, and was too deep in the spiral to get out.” Ilse says sadly, pulling out a chair for Melchior to sit it.

“Really? You really think that? This whole time I’ve been wracking my mind trying to figure out what I could have done to save him, Wendla too.” Melchior says, taking a seat.

“Moritz was too far gone. I saw the look in his eyes, and have seen it countless times since here. He felt he had no place in this world, he was hopeless. His family did not accept him, which is what he always wanted. Despite what you and I think, I don’t think we could ever understand what was going on in his mind. He was sick, and there was no one in this town able to help him. That’s the truth.” Ilse says, reach out for Melchior’s hand. “Wendla was too innocent for this world, and there will be nothing to change that. But, when I visited her mother, I noticed there was a journal in her room that I think you should look at. She talked a lot about you in it. Try to sneak it out though, her mother is not pleased with you, and I am sure she would not want you taking what’s left of her daughter away.” Ilsa says quietly. “We both loved her dearly, her mother too, and we need to remember that. Be careful if you decide to go over there, after all these years, her room has been left untouched. They’re still grieving. If you think you’ve got it bad, her mother has been a wreck.”

“A journal?” Melchior questions, he never saw her with one before. “I thought I was the only one who wrote.”

“I guess you may have inspired her Melchior. Now, I better get going, take care and don’t be a stranger.” Ilse says, giving Melchior’s hand a squeeze before getting up to leave. Before she goes too far she turns around again, “Don’t forget the journal.”


	3. Chapter 3

Melchior makes his way to the Bergmann’s house. Everything is the same, but he feels like an intruder, unwelcomed. He knocks, and immediately Frau Bergmann opens the door. She takes one look at Melchior and then slams the door in his face.  
Melchior stands there, stunned, not knowing what to do. After a couple minutes, Melchior knocks again. Before Frau Bergmann could slam the door in his face, he puts his foot in the doorway. “Frau Bergmann if you please,” Melchior pleads and Frau Bergmann hesitates. “Let me talk to you. I have so much to say, and I think it would hurt both of us if you slam the door in my face again.”

“Alright, I will let you in. But don’t think you’ll be getting of easy.” Frau Bergmann says sternly. Melchior always thought Frau Bergmann was a little protective of her two daughters, but not this mean.

“Thank you Frau.” Melchior says, stepping into their home.

“Have a seat in the foyer, I’ll get you something to drink.” Frau Bergmann says curtly as she steps into the kitchen.  
Before Melchior takes a seat, he looks at the photographs of Wendla and her sister when they were young. He reaches up to touch Wendla’s face, then signing “scar on my heart” on her, the sign she always used when they were together. Frau Bergmann enters, setting the glasses of juice down on the table.

“Have a seat young man,” Frau Bergmann says. “I don’t have long, and there’s much to talk about.”

“Where would you like to start?” Melchior asks, taking a seat across from her.

“Why Wendla? Why my daughter? Why not play out your fantasies on any other young girl in the town? I need to know the whole story for me to ever, ever forgive you.” Frau Bergmann asks.

“Frau Bergmann, you remember that Wendla, Moritz, Ilse, and I played as children. Wendla and Moritz opened me up to a whole new world of being deaf. I felt like we had a secret language, no one could understand except us. She allowed me to view the world through her eyes, and it was extraordinary. Wendla showed me what wonder was, and my world was never the same. We were all devastated when we had to go to separate schools, and it felt like a miracle when we ran into each other in the meadow. We started talking about acts of kindness, and her wisdom inspired me. We hadn’t truly talked like that in a very long time. I asked if she wanted to sit and watch the clouds go by, and then she stayed. I hadn’t felt a connection like that with anyone in a very long time. She was so open minded, so fascinating. Over time, we met more frequently in the meadow, talking about school and books we read, eventually falling in love.” Melchior says with a smile, missing those times in the shade with Wendla.

“Melchior Gabor, surely you must be kidding. There is no possible way that Wendla could have been in love with you.” Frau Bergman said, aghast.

“Frau Bergmann, I am quite literate, and what Wendla and I had surpassed any of the great romances ever described in books. We were young and naive, yes, but we both understood what love felt like. When we were together, I felt like we were the same person.” Melchior insists. “One day, a couple days after we got into an argument, Wendla came by my hayloft. I didn’t want to see her, since I thought I hurt her, but she insisted. I left my journal in the meadow the last time we were there, and she came to give it back to me. I tried to get her to leave, not wanting to ever hurt her again, but she was quite enticing. We started talking, and she was confused with what I wrote in my journals,” Melchior hesitates, not wanting to talk about sex to Wendla’s mother.

“Mr. Gabor, I need to know everything.” Frau Bergmann said with a sigh.

“Okay then,” Melchior starts, “I guess you probably know about the essay I wrote for Moritz. The boys in our class had questions, and since we didn’t learn anything about… sex in school, they turned to me. So, I wrote down everything I learned in books, and gave it to them. I personally believe education about sex is important, so everyone understands what the consequences, both good and bad, are. I had drafts of the essay in my journal that Wendla had. I am sure she read every word, but she came to me saying that something changed in her after our fight, something she couldn’t explain. I tried my best with the sign I knew, about feeling her heartbeat everywhere I went in my mind. Not being able to stop thinking about her, and she agreed it was the same for me.  
So, I kissed her. Wanting her to understand how I felt about her, since I didn’t have the signs to tell her. At first she refused, saying that we weren’t supposed to. But how can love be a crime? Why should we say no if love feels so good? But then she kissed me, and every step along the way she said yes. I like to believe she at least had a sense of what we were doing, but I think she was confused to hear that it was possible to…” Melchior's voice trailed off, he avoided eye contact with Frau Bergmann, he felt so vulnerable with tears streaming down his face.

“Frau Bergmann, I think she thought you could only have children if we were married. Now, you and I both know that’s not the case. So why would she think that?” Melchior questions.

“Melchior Gabor, do you think you have the guts to accuse me of making my daughter pregnant?” Frau Bergmann looks frightened. “You must be kidding me. Yes, neither do I have the vocabulary to explain to her what all that is, but that doesn’t mean you could have USED her like that! You knew what you were getting into, Wendla did not, and you ruined her.” Frau spits.

“Frau Bergmann, please, I have a letter. I think you should read it. I will go into the other room, leaving you to read it, and will come back when you are finished.” Melchior reaches into his pocket to give Frau Bergmann the last letter Wendla wrote him. She takes it, and Melchior wanders off trying to find Wendla’s old room.  
When he sees it, he stops. It has drawings on the walls and books stacked on tables. It looks like she could come back any day. Melchior steps in and finds the journal stacked between her school books. He tucks it into the back of his shorts, hidden by his blazer. He retreats back to the foyer, finding Frau Bergmann in tears.

“Oh my God, she actually did love you,” She gasps, clasping the letter to her chest.

“Frau Bergmann, I still know how much my actions hurt the both of us, and I am so terribly sorry. If words could express how devastated I am about Wendla’s death, I would say them. I don’t think the hole she left in my heart will ever be repaired.” Melchior says quietly.  
Frau Bergmann stand up and leads Melchior to the door. “I think you should go. Thank you for stopping by, now if you could never come back, that would be the best. I see her in you, and that breaks my soul.” She hands him his letter, then opens the door.

“Thank you for letting me tell my story. I hope one day you will understand.” Melchior quietly says as he leaves the Bergmann house for good.


	4. Chapter 4

Melchior heads back to his parents home for the night, still wracking his mind over what happened at the Bergmann house. He takes Wendla’s journal out of the back of his pants, fanning through the pages. He is scared to open it, both not wanting to intrude, but also with wonder of what the world she was in looked like in her eyes.

Melchior decides to wait until tomorrow, too tired from the days events to fully appreciate her journal.

In the morning, Melchior sets out to his favorite spot, the tree where he and Wendla met again what seems so long ago. He climbs up to his favorite sitting branch, and he opens up the journal. It starts a week or two after they met, detailing her side of their tragic story. He reads about her empathy towards Martha and her father, and how hurt and confused she felt after Melchior beat her, despite not being sorry for asking him to do so. He reads about her own confusion and love for him, and her feeling about finding out about the baby. It was at this point she adds a new person into the story, someone whom she met a long time ago by the name of Elke (pronounced Elka), another deaf girl. She writes about visiting her in Stuttgart, where Melchior is heading to in a couple of days. He reads of their friendship, how they met many years ago at a church activity, and how they saw each other throughout their lives until a couple years ago.

There is one thing that Melchior knows that he has to do: find Elke, and ask her why all of the sudden Wendla would write about her in her journal, if they had not seen each other in years. When he is done with the journal, Melchior treks back to his house, making sure to soak in the fields and stream, that bit of paradise won’t be with him in Stuttgart. When he gets home, both of his parents are sitting down for dinner, unusual for a friday night, when his father usually works a little later to be prepared for the following week.

“Father, it’s nice to see you,” Mechior says, smiling and kissing both parents on the cheek before sitting down. They say grace, then start eating.

“Melchior, you just have this weekend until you move to Stuttgart. Are you sure you want to leave us? You don’t know how bad it is over there, everyone fending for themselves, the smog.” Melchior’s father starts, picking at his food.

“Father, you and I both know that we would not be compatible if I stayed here. I learned a lot at my time in the Gymnasium, some of which had to do with fending for myself against my own kind, and with the teachers.” Melchior starts.

“Melchi, we know you went through a lot these past five years, I just don’t want you to lose yourself in that big city. Stay true to yourself. Just know, you always have a home here.” Melchior’s mother adds.

“Mother, if I had a place here, then why did you send me away instead of loving me? Why didn’t you write to me? Yes, my childhood was amazing, but when I started to become smarter than you, both of you, you shut me out.” Melchior counters.

“Oh son, we wanted you to learn. It would have been terrible to go to school without Moritz, and see their shadows everywhere. You needed to learn morals and standards we could not teach you here. You needed to learn what to tell others and what to keep private.” Melchior’s mother says calmly.

“Mother you can’t be trying to tell me that educating the boys about their own bodies caused me to become a terrible person. I strengthened them, answered their questions, and made them more confident. What kind of parent doesn’t want their child to do that?”  
The three of them sit in silence, no one touching their food. “Son, you knew too much for the others. You opened their world to something their parents could not understand. Not everyone here is as lucky as you and has access to books outside of school. While it is good that you learned what changes occur to a human body, and the consequences of such things, but it caused an uproar in the community. That’s why we sent you away.” Melchior’s father says, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

“So the ignorance and negligence of parents not explaining life to their children caused me to be sent away? Doesn’t that defy all logic? I was telling the truth, while the parents around here were hiding in the shadows. What was I to do? Tell them it was unnatural? Sinful? How could something that brings life into this world be sinful and unnatural?” Melchior states, pushing around his food.

“Son, we felt you could find some people there who could help you, and I think you did. I know we hurt you sending you away from your friends, but I think it taught you lessons we could never teach you. Maybe one day you will thank us for it.” Melchior’s mother replies.

They finish the rest of their meal in silence, Melchior trying his best to keep his calm in the last days of him being with his parents. He did not want to leave on the wrong foot like last time, and at least maintain contact with his Mother when he leaves. When they all retreat to their bedrooms at the end of the night, Melchior reminisces on his past, and what is ahead. He is excited to start his new job reviewing books, and cannot wait to get to the big city.

 

“Melchior Gabor?” The assistant calls. Melchior gets up from the seat he had taken when arriving to the newspaper company ten minutes ago. Today is his first day, and he has to turn in the first review on Huckleberry Finn, a recent release by Mark Twain. He had liked the mischievous Huck and his adventures, it reminded him of himself. He follows the assistant into his boss’ office, and takes a seat across from him. Mr. Stein is twice his age with a friendly smile and a good laugh. He and Melchior bounce conversation right off of one another, and they manage to edit the review in plenty of time for the press. When Melchor leaves, he decides to head into the market. He had not gotten a chance to do so the day before when he moved into his apartment. He had said goodbye to his parents, and was left unpacking all night long. The flat was relatively small, but it was enough for him, and was quite affordable with his pay.

The market is not too far from the newspaper company, and on his way home. He gets some bread and other necessities from the different stalls. Melchior makes his way over to the meat stall when he sees a young woman pointing to the meats. The clerk is screaming at her, but she doesn’t notice until she looks up at him. She looks shocked, and the Melchior hears the clerk say, “You bitch! YOU HAVE TO USE YOUR WORDS I CAN’T UNDERSTAND YOUR FINGERS” Melchior rushes to the woman and pushes her out of the way before the clerk can slap her. Melchior turns to try to follow her, hoping this woman is Elke, Wendla’s deaf friend from Stuttgart, but she gets lost in the crowd.

He turns back to the clerk and yells,“Sir, didn’t you know that that young woman was deaf? She can’t hear you, which is why she was gesturing! Despite what you and others may think about deaf people, they are still human beings, and will at least pay for your meat.” He takes a deep breath and goes on more quietly, “Next time, use gestures back to help you and her communicate. She’s willing to pay, so why not let her get her meat like the rest of us?” Before Melchior lets the clerk speak, he turns and runs into the crowd, trying to find the young woman.

Without any luck, Melchior decides to check back at the market every day until he sees her again. It’s not until a week later that he sees the familiar blonde hair. From a distance, she looks to be about his age, and is having troubles getting cheese. Melchior walks up behind her and touches her shoulder how Wendla taught him to get the attention of a deaf person.

She turns around frantically, noticeably annoyed at him. Melchior signs, “I’m sorry, I am Melchior, a hearing person who also knows sign. Do you need help?”  
The woman looks him up and down and then recognizes him, “I was doing just fine, thank you.” She signs. Melchior responds, “Well, when you’re done, I’d like to talk to you. If you can, meet me by the trees over there.”

Melchior sits by the trees and watches her complete her shopping. When she’s done, she walks over to him. He sighs with relief, not wanting to let this opportunity to go.

“What do you want?” She signs, taking a seat next to him. “How do you know sign if you’re hearing?”

“Like I said, I am Melchior, I had friends who were deaf growing up. They told me there was a woman named Elke, one of their friends, who’s deaf living here in Stuttgart. Do you know where I could find her?” Melchior signs, turning towards her.

“I’m Maria, but I do know where Elke is. If you want, I can take you to her now. We live together with some other deaf girls our age in a quaint house not far from here.” She signs, picking up her satchels.

“Thank you, let me help you with those.” Melchior signs, taking two of them himself. While they walk to the house, Maria tells Melchior how the girls all found each other and how they make money with their laundering business. She explains that there are four girls living there, one who’s boyfriend is hearing but knows sign because of his deaf mother, who helps interpret to customers while also picking up shifts at the factory. She explains that one of the woman had a daughter with the boy, who also helps with the laundry, as much as a five year old can do. Melchior smiles, he has always loved kids.

When at the house, Melchior helps by making the two of them supper while she puts away the extra food. Maria tells him that most of the women wouldn’t be back until later, she was on market duty for the day, and the others were finishing their work. He learns more about everyone, but Maria wants to save it for introductions when everyone gets back from work. Instead, she talks about her life growing up with deaf parents and navigating such a large city like Stuttgart. She tells him of all the places he should visit, and they chat about their favorite books growing up. They leave the leftover supper for the girls when they’re finished.

Melchior helps Maria clean up by drying the dishes she hands him after she washes. They get into a routine, until all of the sudden he hears a plate crash to the floor. At first, Melchior assumes it just slipped out of Maria’s hands, but he sees that she is still washing the dishes. He turns around and freezes.

Wendla.


	5. Chapter 5

She’s standing there, motionless, and he starts to reach out and touch her, but she turns around and runs away. Before he can run after her, Maria pulls him back. “What just happened? How do you know her, Wendla?” Maria asks, pulling on his arm to try to get Melchior to look at her.

“She’s dead. She’s supposed to be dead,” Melchior signs as he sits down on the ground, crying, picking up the shards of the plate on the ground. “Wendla, she’s my friend, more than friend, from my hometown. She died five years ago due to a botched surgery. How can she be alive? How did she get here?” Melchior is shocked. Wendla,  _ his  _ Wendla is here in Stuttgart. Alive, after all these years. 

“Wendla has been here for a long time. She has a daughter, she’s in love with the man who helps us and picks up shifts. She’s probably just as shocked as you are right now.” Maria signs, sitting in front of him. “I think you both are in shock. How about you go home, write down your address, and she can come to you on her own time. You both just had quite a shock.”

Melchior does what she says and writes down his address for her to give to Wendla. On his way home, Melchior finally accepts that it was Wendla standing there and that she is alive. He is full of giddiness and joy, yet still confused and especially saddened that she didn’t want to see him. Most of all, he is overjoyed that he has a daughter. Maria said earlier that she is five, which matches up with Melchior and Wendla’s relationship.

He tries his best to fall asleep that night, but he lies awake thinking of what may happen with Wendla. He wonders what her relationship is like with her boyfriend. Does he know that the child is not his? Do her parents know that she’s alive? Does  _ anyone _ ? What saddens him is that Wendla may ask to never see him again. Maria said she has a good life with the girls, and she may not want to talk to him, but surely despite their recent past history, she would want to stay friends for the sake of Ilse and Moritz. There are two questions he can’t get past, is the girl his daughter? Does Wendla still love him just as much as he loves her?

Before Melchior realizes it, the sun is shining through his window. He knows he did not get very much sleep, but he gets up anyways and starts reading the newest novel he has to review. He’s two chapters in and has finished his breakfast when he hears a knock on the door. Melchior gets up and opens it and sees Wendla there, staring at him. He notices that she looks hurt, and her eyes are bloodshot, he figures she was up all night just like him. 

“Wendla,” Melchior signs and pulls her into a hug. He didn’t know how much he’s missed her until she’s in his arms. He forgot her smell, how she fits so perfectly in his hugs. They stand there, holding each other until Melchior feels his shirt getting wet. He pulls her away and sees that they both are crying. “Oh Wendla,” Melchior says, knowing she could perfectly understand him as he cups her face and wipes away her tears. He kisses her on the temple, wishing he could sweep her up in his arms and take her to that paradise again, but he knows they have a lot to sort through.

He lets her into his apartment and she sits down on his well loved couch. He asks if she would like something to drink and she responds, “No Melchi, I can’t stay long, I have to go to work in an hour.” She looks a little sad and she curls her legs up on the couch, making her look more like her innocent 14 year old self Melchior remembers instead of the 19 year old woman she is now. They both have matured in their years apart, but Melchior still sees the spark in her eyes. 

“Melchior, how did you find me? How did you make it out of the reformatory alive?” Wendla asks as Melchior sits down at the opposite end of the couch. 

“I guess I’ll just start at the beginning. So, you know I got kicked out of school because of the essay I wrote for Moritz. My parents were going to send me to the reformatory, but then my mother convinced my father that it would be best for me to get an education and learn what is right and wrong, so I went to an all boys boarding school Gymnasium. It was terrible. At first, I got some of your letters, the last one was about you coming to get me so we could run off to a place that accepted us. I decided to escape, so I sent a letter Ilse to bring you to the cemetery so we could run away and then came as quickly as I could back to Geradstetten. I got to the cemetery, and at first I thought you were late, but I saw your grave. I was shocked, and almost killed myself right there with the knife I had with me for protection. Without my two best friends, I didn’t know how to survive. You and the baby were my last hope and the only things keeping me in the boarding school. I did not know what to do, but for some reason I heard your voice with Moritz’s telling me to keep going.

I went back to the boarding school, and eventually met one of my closest friends, Erne. He had a sister who was killed in a botched abortion, and we managed to help each other throughout the years. He’s now back in Hamburg, his hometown, and I hear is doing quite well working for his father. When I graduated, I already had a job lined up with die Stuttgarter Zeitung but I headed home for a couple days before my job started. I visited my old school friends as well as Ilse, and she told me about a journal you used to write in. So, when I visited your mother, I got it.”

“Wait, you visited my mother? How is she?” Wendla asks.

“She demanded that I told her why I did what I did with you, and I showed her the letter you wrote me. When she was reading it, I went to your room and found the journal stacked in between your school books. It took it because of what Ilse told me, and you wrote about Elke living here in Stuttgart, so I knew I had to come.” Melchior replies, shifting towards her. “Wendla, when I read your journal, I read that you were in love with me. We were in love! At first, after the hayloft, I thought you would hate me forever, but now I know, despite me not asking, and you not knowing, you too felt it. You loved me.” Melchior looks at her with sadness and wonder.

“Melchior, I” Wendla starts, but before she can continue, Melchior interupts her.

“Wendla, is there any small chance you could still love me? And our daughter, can I see her?” 

“I don’t know. I don’t know if I still love you, or if I want you to meet her.” Wendla says.

“She’s MY daughter! I have the right to see her, and I don’t even know her name!” Melchior counters.

“Let me tell you my story Melchior, and then we can talk about her. My mother did not want to ruin or name, so she sent me to a doctor to have an abortion. I was scared out of my mind, and couldn’t communicate to the man, but he put me in a box and somehow managed to tell me to be silent. He painted me in white, so I looked pale, and then I guess told my mother I died. She came in and saw me and sobbed and sobbed. Before I knew it, she was gone. He helped me out and managed to tell me to leave. It was hard to understand him, but he got paper and wrote down about his daughter who he killed doing this surgery, and he wanted me to have a better life. I made my way here to Stuttgart and ran into Peter, a boy my age. We connected at once, and he learned about the baby and vowed to help me. We found Elke, who was with the other girls including Maria who you met earlier. They have a house like you saw, and allowed both Peter and I to stay. He picked up jobs at the factory and helps us with our laundry business. He is amazing Melchior, he is fantastic with Emilia and she loves him as a father.”

“Emilia, is that her name?” Melchior looks at her, astonished. 

“Yes Melchi, she is beautiful, just like her father. It was really hard the first months with her, I was so sad to see your face in hers. I thought you were dead since I never heard back from you, so every time I saw her eyes, I saw only your face haunting me. Peter and the girls helped me take care of her when I was to sickly to care for her. They all are a part of my family now. That’s why I don’t know if I still love you. I was broken so long without you, and I thought the scars healed, but now I don’t know. Do I just drop everything and turn to you? We are practically strangers!”

He signs their sign, scar on my mind, on her forehead before pulling her into a hug. He looks at her. “My heart still beats the same. I am me, you are you. We have a  _ daughter _ , and I still hear you in the trees and the rain, I can feel you breathing. You are not a stranger to me Wendla, I have been listening to you for years, yearning to see you again. I still love you.” Wendla is just inches away from him, so Melchior thinks  _ now or never _ and kisses her. At first, she doesn’t kiss him back, but then she responds fervently, opening her mouth to accept him. Before he’s had enough, she pulls away.

“I don’t know, Peter will be heartbroken. I told him about you last night, how you have returned. We are lovers, and I don’t want to hurt him. He’s done so much for us without you, and has seen me at my weakest. He knows how to take care of me. He questioned your motives for coming back, and he doesn’t know what to think of it. Neither do I.” Wendlas signs sadly.

“So are you telling me you want me out of your life then.” Melchior signs darkly.

“Let me think about it. Will you be back around five this evening? I can bring Emilia, if that’s okay, and we can talk. I’ll have time to think it all through with the girls, and think of something to do with Peter. Melchior, I think I still love you, but I don’t know how that love measures compared to Peter’s. It’s different with you, I feel you across the room, like a magnet. I am drawn to you in ways I thought were just in my mind from before.” Wendla gets up and gathers her belongings. She walks to the door, and when she turns around to say goodbye to Melchior, he’s hovering closely behind her. He presses his forehead against hers and holds her close. He signs on her forehead and heart, like they used to do.

“You will always be my scar Wendla, I am  _ so  _ happy that you are alive, I don’t know if I could survive without you.” He signs. She reaches up on her tiptoes and kisses him sweetly. Melchior deepens it, pressing her against the door. Before they can get too carried away, she leans away. 

“I have to go, it’s good to see you Melchior Gabor” Wendla signs, her eyes shining.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guess who you get to meet today! The daughter!

*Wendla’s perspective*

Wendla makes her way out into the street and down to the warehouse where the girls run their business out of. It is a quaint place, with little room except for the large washboards and lines that they dry clothes on. Most people in their area pay them, which allows the girls to all live together in a suitable house. Deaf people have a hard time in big cities like Stuttgart, so they try their best to stick together.

While Wendla is scrubbing out the stains on a particularly tricky set of clothes, she thinks about Melchior and Peter. She met Peter just outside the city when she was running away. He got a job at one of the factories, and went to the city after schools. Wendla was surprised that he could sign, but it turns out that his mother is almost completely deaf, so he learned sign through her growing up. 

Peter helped her get over Melchior. He saw her at her worst and helped her get on her feet. It was tough, she thought Melchior was dead like all the other boys who go to the reformatories and never come back. Peter knew how to love her and care for her, especially since she lost all connection with her family. He noticed the bump before she did, and at first she thought he’d leave her, but Peter never asked questions. He was strong, and her rock for so many years. How could she leave him like that? Their relationship strengthened over the years, and eventually lead to them sharing a room together. He helped raise Emilia, and Emilia thinks of him as her father.

Wendla moves on to hanging up clothes as she thinks about Melchior. When she came back from work, she saw Maria in the kitchen and wanted to get some bread from Emilia, since she wasn’t feeling very well, with the weather changing into summer, she had developed a slight cold. At first she thought Maria brought a guy home as she did from time to time, but she recognized the hair, and how he stood. When he turned his head slightly to grab another dish from Maria to dry, she knew for sure it was Melchior. She was so shocked she dropped the plate she was holding. When Melchior turned towards her, a part of her wanted to kiss him, and another part was telling her to run. She decided to go to the latter, and ran as fast as she could to the factory where Peter worked. By the time she got there, he was just getting off his shift. 

Wendla was in a fit, not knowing what to do, so she just flat out told him that Melchior was back. At first he was shocked, just as she, but eventually told her that it was up to her to decide what to do. He looked hurt, but Wendla thinks deep down that Peter would be okay. They never were as physically intimate as she was with Melchior, but they were companions, lovers. She knows if she goes to Melchior she would be losing the closest person she has, besides her daughter. She would be ripping her family apart. Wendla asked for time, and Peter understood. 

After she finished hanging up the rest of the laundry for the day, she sat down and talked to Maria.

“So what happened last night? And this morning?” Maria asks, sitting across from Wendla.

“Melchior, the boy I was in love with, is alive I guess! After all these years, I thought he was dead, because none of the boys who went to the reformatory would ever come back to Geradstetten. He thought I was dead because my mother tried to get an abortion.” Wendla sighs, “He’s the father. Melchior is Emilia’s father.”

“But what about Peter?” Maria asks, looking confused. When she was with the girls, she told them that Peter was the father, and he was fine with that. While not the biological father, she knew that he would be the perfect match for her to raise a child with.

“We met on our way into Stuttgart. He knows he’s not the biological father of Emilia, but he is the closest thing she has to a father. I told him last night about Melchior, and he is letting me decide what to do, which is awfully kind of him. I don’t deserve him and I love him, but I loved Melchior more than I could ever imagine all those years ago. I don’t know what I should do Maria!” Wendla signs, pulling her into a hug.

“Wendla, I think what is best is to get Emilia introduced to Melchior. If he is her father, they both have the right to know each other. Do you know how Melchior got here? Does he have a job? Just be careful, you are no longer the innocent children you once were. It was a long time ago, and you both have been through a lot.” Maria signs, taking Wendla’s hand. “Just remember, despite all of this, we girls have you, and we can always help you.”

“Thank you Maria.” Wendla signs with a smile. “You girls have helped me stay afloat after all these years, and I will never be able to repay you.”

“That’s what family does Wendla, we take care of each other.” Maris signs before getting up. Wendla goes and finds Emilia playing with Elke in the next room.

“Time to go!” Wendla signs to Emilia, gathering up their belongings. “We’re going somewhere new tonight, so we better get on our way.”

Emilia always loved surprises, so she immediately grabbed her mother's hand. 

“Good luck!” Elke signed as she locked up the place behind Wendla.

Wendla and Emilia make the walk to Melchior’s, only a couple blocks away from their house. Emilia asks her mom lots of questions, but Wendla waits until they are outside of the apartment building before sitting her on a bench.

“Emilia, we are going to meet someone very special today.” Wendla signs, sitting next to her.

“Who momma?” Emilia signs, giddy with excitement. 

“His name is Melchior, and he is very special to me. Do you think you can be on good behavior for me? He’s really excited to meet you.” Wendla signs before cupping Emilia’s chin in her hand. 

“Of course mommy!” Emilia jumps up and down with excitement. She always liked the idea meeting new people even if she was a bit shy because something she didn’t get to do often since almost everyone around her is deaf and hearing people tend to steer clear of them. 

 

*Switch to Melchior’s perspective* *anytime melchior and Emilia sign, they are also speaking*

 

Melchior just finishes setting the table when he hears a knock at the door. He decided to make dinner, knowing that after a long day of work that’s what anyone would like, even if it is a mediocre meal like what Melchior made. He strides to the door and opens it up to see Wendla standing there, with a little girl wrapped around her leg.

“Hi, please come in.” Melchior signs, opening the door wider and letting them sit down at his couch. 

“You can talk?” Emilia asks, peeking out from behind Wendla’s dress. Wendla doesn’t notice her daughter speaking until Melchor squats down and signs,

“Yes I can speak! Hello little one, I’m Melchior. What’s your name?” He looks at her with wonder. 

“Emilia,” She fingers spells before signing her name. She reaches out to him, and Melchior scoops her up in a hug. 

“Does she know I’m her father?” Melchior signs when Emilia is in his arms. When Wendla shakes her head, Melchor nods. He knows it would be hard to tell her that her “father” Peter is no longer his father. When Emilia lets go, they make their way to the couch.

“So Emilia, what’s your favorite color?” Melchior asks. He pulls out some books that she starts stacking and building with. He plays with Emilia and laughs with her while Wendla watches from the couch. Melchior instantly falls in love with Emilia, and notices that she looks a lot like her mother. Once he was done helping Emilia build a tower, he invites them to sit at the dinner table. He made spätzle, his favorite, with some red sauce. Not too fancy, but delicious nonetheless. Melchior learns more about Emilia and her time working with the other women in the laundry business. She’s the main color sorter, and helps them change out the water.

“So Emilia, do you like Peter?” Melchior asks. Wendla looks at him sternly, not wanting him to go there.”

“Peter is nice! We can have secret conversations because he can talk like you, but he doesn’t play with me like your or momma. I think he works too much.” Emilia says, wrinkling her forehead.

“Well Emilia, I do like playing with you. Have you learned how to read?” Melchior asks, spooning some more spätzle on his plate. 

“We have taught her some, but it is hard with signing.” Wendla signs before wiping Emilia’s mouth. 

“It’s hard for me, but father reads me every night. I love hearing his stories! He helps me sound out the words.” Emilia says, finishing her plate of food. “Momma can I go back to playing?” She asks, itching to get out of her seat.

Wendla looks at Melchior before he nods a yes. Melchior knows there’s still plenty for him and Wendla to talk about, and he isn’t sure the next time he’ll see her.

“Go ahead, just make sure to wash up.” Wendla signs, pointing to the kitchen. When Emilia leaves, Melchior scoots closer to Wendla.

“When are you going to tell her I am her father?” Melchior asks.

“I don’t know. It will turn her world upside down, he’s the only male figure she has in her life.” Wendla says, picking at her food.

“I am her  _ father _ Wendla. You can’t just have her come over whenever it’s convenient for you. I’ve been out of her life for so long, I’ve missed so much! I can’t bear to miss any more of her life.” Melchior signs with a sad smile. 

“I-i” She hesitates.

“Is that all you can say? I don’t know?” Melchior stands up. “Wendla, ever since I found your grave, I’ve been having nightmares. Of Moritz. Of you. Replaying the scenes where I killed you, our paradise tainted with blood. Over and over. Of our lost child screaming because no one could hear it. I would wake up in sweats, scaring off all of my roomates. I couldn’t focus in school because I was so tired, but when I closed my eyes I could only see you in pain, like when I hit you with the switch. Tell me that there wasn’t a single moment when you were thinking of me and I’ll leave. I don’t have to see Emilia if that’s what you wish, I’ll be out of your life forever. But, if you felt what I felt when we kissed this morning then Wendla, there is no way in hell I will ever leave you. You know I love you, and there is nothing I want more than to sweep you off of your feet and take you into my bedroom and show you. But, I also love you so much that if it is the best for me to leave, then I can do it.”

“Melchior, sit down.” Wendla signs, pulling him down to his seat.

“Wendla, please,” Melchior signs harshly. “I need to know… 

Wendla “I thought you were dead after I sent the letter about the baby to you. You never responded, so I visited your parents. They told me that you hadn’t been in contact with them either, so I figured that meant you got in a terrible fight or ran away, and I was to never see you again like Leon a couple years ago. No one has heard of him once he left after being expelled. It was that same night that my mother took me to that doctor. When I left for Stuttgart, I knew I couldn’t tell anyone  _ anything _ . I knew, as I hid in the forest, there was no way I would ever see anyone I loved again. That night, I lost everything I knew. I was so frightened, Melchior, and I had no one. Just me and the little miracle growing inside of me. I had dreams too, about you. I imagined all of the awful ways you could have died in that reformatory and I would wake up screaming. It took a long time before the nightmares went away, and then they started back up again when I had Emilia. Every time I look in her eyes I see you, and it broke my heart that you would never be able to meet her.” Wendla signs back sadly.

“When you came back, I didn’t know what to do. You were exactly how I pictured you but more handsome. I like the stubble on your chin.” Wendla reaches out to run her fingers against his rough skin. Melchior sighs, closing his eyes and cupping his hand around hers.

“Melchior I can never leave you. For the sake of our child, but I need to figure out how to tell Peter.” Wendla signs, retreating back to her side of the table.

“But do you still love me?” Melchior signs, reaching out for her. “Not as Emilia’s father, not as your friend, but do you still feel what we felt all those years ago? When you enter the room, I feel you in my bones, you entice me in ways I cannot explain.”

“You have never escaped my mind Melchior. I see you in our daughter, in the way she looks at the world with wonder. I see you in the birds flying above to the heavens and in the streams trying to find the fastest path down. You were everywhere and in everything, and now you’re here. You’re here, and all I want to do is touch you and be reminded of your mind and strength, but I have strings pulling me back every time I reach out. I will tell Peter tonight, and we can work out everything else.” Wendla signs before Melchior pulls her in for a kiss. He feels Wendla pushing herself against him, and he responds, kissing down her neck. He places his head against her heart. 

“It’s racing.” Melchior smiles.

“With love,” Wendla signs, reaching down to stroke his hair. “If only we could do more, sometime when our daughter isn’t in the next room.” 

“One day, you can live here and we can have our paradise.” Melchior signs, reaching up again to kiss her on her forehead.

“But,” Wendla sighs.

“But what?” Melchior questions, not knowing what she’s going to say.

“Before we can do anything…” She hesitates. “Anything like what we did in your hayloft… We have to get married. You have to make me an honest woman before we ever do anything like that again. I don’t want to have another child while you’re somewhere unaccounted for. I want you here, with me, forever.”

Melchior looks at her astonished. “If I had it my way Miss Bergmann, I would marry you tomorrow. But, you have to sort your your life first. I am here when you are ready for me, I’ll just be reading my books and writing reviews waiting for you.” He kisses her once more sweetly before standing up to get Emilia.

“Look look! I made a castle!” Emilia squeals, pulling on Melchior’s arms to have him join her with her books and trinkets she’d been playing with. Wendla joins them, and they play together as a family. Melchior smiles at Wendla whenever Emilia says something that reminds him of her, and in this moment he couldn’t have asked for anything more. 


End file.
